A Lord of Many Masks (Wycliffe Family Book 2)

by Jessica Scarlett

  A LORD OF MANY MASKS

  Copyright © 2020 by Jessica Scarlett

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, ideas, and places are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information visit : https://www.jessicascarlett.com

  Cover Design by Pure Print and Design

  Cover photo by Michele Lee Photo

  ISBN : 9798664189445

  First Edition : August 2020

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Other titles in the Wycliffe Family Series:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Author’s note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other titles in the Wycliffe Family Series:

  A Lily in Disguise

  A Lady on the Chase

  A Maid for Melbourne

  Managing Mary

  For Alayna,

  Brainstormer extraordinaire

  Chapter 1

  London, England

  1814

  I could not believe I was spending the first night of my Season cowering behind the curtains.

  This night, on which I’d placed many girlish fantasies over the years, was supposed to find me dancing upon clouds, being wooed by handsome lords, and identifying the face of my future husband. Not find me with aching feet, shaking hands, and a face that upon recognition was likely to start a brawl.

  Oh, if only this were a masquerade! Not only would it hide me from those three men, but it would be endlessly quixotic to have to guess at another’s identity. Dancing in a man’s arms while trying to determine who he was underneath. So romantic!

  Between the parted beige curtains shone a sliver of the painted ceiling and one edge of a ring of dancers. Clusters of people skirted the ballroom near ornate mirrors and towering windows. Women’s feathers flamboyantly bobbed atop their heads as they bounced around in a circle, while the gentlemen’s heels click-clacked against the wooden floor.

  All this joviality, and I was prevented from participating—compelled into hiding by my own awkwardness. I blew a sigh that puffed a stray lock of dark hair away from my face. This was definitely not how the night was supposed to play out.

  For years William had bowled over in laughter whenever I told him how eagerly I awaited my Season—and how determined I was to fall in love at my very first ball. Long he had teased me about this very night. I could hear his mocking voice in my ear, from only hours before. “Dear Eliza, your very first ball shall be like all the others—loud, heady, and filled with an unhealthy amount of stupidity. Just ensure the stupidity doesn’t come from you.”

  As evidenced by my position behind the drapery, it was far too late for that. If I were lucky, I would be spared William’s company for the rest of the night, and consequently, his gloating. Confound the man.

  Well, it simply wouldn’t do. The curtain situation was only a minor setback. I would find love tonight—William would see.

  I’d find it if only to spite him.

  And I’d start by securing a dance with the first man I came upon. Once William saw me happily swept off my feet, he’d be forced to swallow his snide comments and critical attitude concerning love, once and for all. The thought brought a smile to my lips.

  Now to only leave the curtains so I may put my plan into action . . . My feet tapped in impatience to the lively music drifting in the air. I’d been standing here for an age already, but this was a particularly long set, and until the music paused, I’d be forced to remain. My mind flitted back to the reason I found myself in this predicament.

  Barraged with introduction after introduction from an unobservant elderly companion, I’d been forced to smile until my cheeks hurt, and dance until my head swam. My senses had been so addled and the young men so persistent, I had accidentally promised the current set—to three different gentlemen. How the horror had struck me in that moment! It did not take much imagination to realize what came next:

  All three men approached me, eyeing each other, before individually bowing and extending their hands with a flourish. Oh, what was I to do?

  “Dear me, I’m dreadfully sorry,” I said to each of them, “but I have made an error.”

  “No error!” one of them insisted. “This dance is intended for me.”

  “Here now!” another one said.

  “Why don’t we allow Miss Wycliffe to decide?” said the last one, and they all turned to me to settle the matter.

  I bit my fingernails. They were all so dashing—any one of them would have no trouble whisking me away and making me fall head over heels. How was I ever to choose the right one?

  After I hemmed and hawed for the better part of five minutes, finally one of them turned red and began to growl. “If Miss Wycliffe cannot choose, she will dance with me.” He stepped up and took hold of my arm in an iron grip. “She did promise it to me after all.”

  I gave a little cry at the firmness of his grasp. Another one grabbed my other arm. I was trapped.

  But then the last one—the handsomest one—Mr.—

  Oh heavens, what was his name? Ah well, I shall name him Morris.

  —Mr. Morris suddenly broke into fisticuffs, decking the other two before they saw it coming. Blood blotted the floor where one of them fell, unconscious. The other fell back into the throng, his pride bruised, though not as much as his jawline. And Mr. Morris, the only one who remained standing, turned to me in victory and claimed me for his dance, sweeping me away for the rest of the breathless night.

  Oh, but we were forced to hop over the unconscious one as we danced, since there was no doctor in the room and none of the attendees particularly liked touching blood. Poor man.

  I shook my head to clear the daydream. My imagination was always getting the better of me.

  The other, less romantic course of events was that when all three came to claim me for their dance, it would draw gasps from the crowd and cause a spectacle I would never live down. So, upon realizing my error, I’d quickly made a hurried excuse to my chaperone, Mrs. Burbank, and dashed for the curtains, where I continued to reside in shame. At least until this particular dance ended.

  I closed my eyes, cursing the clumsiness with which I handled every social interaction. Just eighteen, I was still as naïve as the country girls who flirted with any man who paid them two seconds of attention—only, in that area their skill surpassed my own. Flirting and overcoming my awkwardness were things I desperately needed to work on if I were to fit in with the ton.

  None of the three men fit my imagined ideal—for that, I could be grateful. I did
n’t want my future husband to view me as a dimwit. Even if I was one.

  At that moment, one of the men came into vision. My breath hitched behind the safety of the curtain.

  Heaven knows I’d forgotten his name already, but he looked about him with confusion, no doubt trying to spot a girl in a sapphire gown with a dark head of hair. Another man—another one I’d promised, and another whose name I’d predictably forgotten—joined him, and they spoke together with wrinkled brows. One of them looked my direction, pointing to the drapes.

  I gasped and flattened myself against the wall. Whatever would I do if they came over and found me? Oh, what a fool I was! Safe behind the curtains, indeed! I held my breath for a whole minute.

  At last, I mustered the courage to peek back out. They were gone. I released my pent up air, sagging back. The strings began to play their closing strains, signaling the close of the set.

  Thank goodness. I thought it would last forever.

  Couples took their seats. If I didn’t hurry, I’d have more spectators than usual with the extra bodies of the dancers filling the edges of the room. Or worse, an occupant in the alcove. Gathering my skirts, I took a few deep breaths and grabbed the edge of the curtain to sweep it aside.

  A woman’s giggle trailed into the alcove, followed by a man. Quickly I let go and flattened back against the frosty window, cold seeping into the back of my dress. Of all the luck!

  “Oh, sir!” the woman sighed, leaning against the wall to my right. A robust wave of rose perfume wafted to my nose and I barely restrained myself from choking. I breathed through my mouth, trying not to gag. “How you tease me so! I sent you my note nearly an hour ago and only now do I catch your attention!”

  “Forgive me. I was preoccupied by all the beauty in the room.”

  A jolt went through my senses at the sound of the man’s smiling voice.

  . . . William?

  “Beauty, Sir William?” The woman sounded offended. “I hope you do not mean that girl that was draped upon your arm at your entrance.”

  I blinked. She was talking about me.

  William laughed. “Eliza?” He leaned in closer to the woman. “I have not seen her for the last hour, at least.”

  “Do you find her prettier than me?”

  Oh, I definitely should not be overhearing this. William was like a brother, and always had been. Still, I felt my ears perk up and I held my breath in anticipation of his response.

  I heard the smile in William’s voice when he said, “I think any woman would be hard-pressed to surpass Miss Wycliffe in beauty. It is not a question of whether I find her prettier. She simply is.”

  A hot blush rose to my face, and for once I was grateful to be concealed by the curtains.

  Miss Nagel exclaimed at the insult. “You tease me, sir!” Her black silhouette hit him playfully on the arm.

  “Your note said to meet you in private, Miss Nagel. I’d venture to guess you did not wish to speak of Miss Wycliffe?”

  Her shadow bobbed up and down as she swayed against the wall. “Oh no, sir. In fact, I do not wish to speak at all.”

  My hand shot to my mouth to cover my gasp.

  Clothes rustled as William’s shadowy outline eased forward. My mouth ran dry at the horror of what I was about to witness. I pinched my eyes closed. I—

  Ow.

  My foot!

  Glancing down, I beheld William’s boot clomp over my slipper. I thought to pull my leg away, but even if I were strong enough, there was nowhere for my foot to move. Backed against the wall where there was no sill, my feet were just long enough to make my toes peek out from under the curtains. There was no hiding them.

  William’s shadow halted. Pulse pounding in my ears, I told myself to remain calm. There was a good chance he couldn’t see my slippers, shrouded in the shadows. And perhaps he thought my foot belonged to the woman he was wooing—or that he’d stepped on a wad of curtain.

  Miss Nagel must have had her eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss, for she didn’t notice his hesitation. A little breath of air tousled the fabric keeping me hidden, carried on a very soft, deep chuckle.

  “What?” Miss Nagel breathed. Her eyes must be open now.

  “Perhaps it is not the wisest thing,” William said, smile still in his voice. “Best we return to the ballroom, Miss Nagel, before your chaperone notices you missing.”

  I nearly sighed in relief. They were going to leave and I was going to be able to sneak out from behind the drapes, unnoticed. William would be none the wiser, and I would be saved the embarrassment of admitting I’d overheard his private conversation. And almost witnessed him kiss a woman.

  Miss Nagel’s silhouette sagged. “Oh.” Disappointment tinged her voice. “Yes, I suppose we should.” They strolled away a couple steps, giving me the courage to peek through the narrow opening once more. Her petite hand gripped his arm. “I shall see you soon, I hope?”

  William gave a short bow and the woman lingered for another moment, before returning to the ballroom. William, however, slowly swiveled back, giving the curtains a contemplative look. I leaned away from the opening, hoping he hadn’t seen me.

  And it appeared he hadn’t, for he returned to the alcove without throwing the curtains off and exposing me. Instead he leaned against the wall with one shoulder, looking out upon the dancers.

  “Poor Miss Nagel. It’s an embarrassing predicament she finds herself in.”

  Was he really talking to himself?

  “Of course, not quite as embarrassing as hiding behind the drapes . . .”

  My pulse quickened.

  “I can’t begin to imagine what kind of character would hide in such a spot. An addled old man? A crazed, desperate spinster? Surely no one of repute. For indeed if one was going to hide, one would do much better underneath the chairs or hanging from the balcony terrace—anyone of repute would know that.”

  My eyelids closed in defeat.

  “And indeed, to what purpose? I can only assume it would be to overhear my tête-à-tête. And any woman who would go to such lengths must be hopelessly in love with me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  I sighed and poked my head out. William wasn’t looking out on the ball like I’d thought; he was facing me with a triumphant smirk.

  “Hello, ‘Liza.”

  I cleared my throat and lifted my chin. “Hello.” I let the curtain fall behind me, glad to be rid of it even though the circumstances were less than ideal.

  He folded his arms, face turning thoughtful. “I seem to recall an instance remarkably like this one—only we were at Ambleside. And you were seven. I had thought you were in the drapes for our game of hide and seek, but now I see it is simply a favorite pastime of yours. How am I only now discovering your inclination toward eavesdropping behind draperies?”

  I pinched my lips, remembering that I’d almost won that particular round of hide and seek before William had spied my feet. The resemblance between the two cases was uncanny. “A woman must have some secrets,” I said at last, unwilling to be cowed.

  He seemed amused at that. “Apparently at the expense of everyone else’s.”

  “I hadn’t the least intention of overhearing your and Miss Nagel’s conversation. Or to witness your . . .” I flushed.

  William’s smirk deepened. “Our what?”

  I cleared my throat again, cursing my ineptness. “Your . . . attempted meeting.”

  “Attempted meeting of what?”

  Oh, bother! I needed to change tactics. “I was here first. I couldn’t possibly have known you and Miss Nagel would occupy the alcove.”

  William’s hazel eyes lit up. How I hated when they did that. It meant I was about to be outmaneuvered. “Then if not to eavesdrop, why were you here?”

  I gulped. Of course he would ask that. He always knew the perfect question, the perfect turn of phrase to turn an offhand comment into a slip of the tongue. And he wielded that gift of his like a knife, amused by the wriggling of those found on the other end of it.
He was going to pry the truth out of me one way or another, and then he would ruthlessly tease me about it. There was simply no getting around it. “I was . . . hiding.”

  William’s lips pinched, holding back a laugh. “From whom?”

  “My dancing partner.”

  “Who?”

  “I can’t exactly recall their names.”

  “Their?” he said. “By all England, Eliza, you mean to say there was more than one?” I didn’t have to answer—William had deduced the rest. He threw his head back and laughed, long and full.

  “Three, in fact.” After another moment, I muttered, “Oh, rub it in.”

  William’s chuckles subsided. “Whatever happened to meeting your mysterious suitor and dancing upon clouds, eh? Curtains are hardly an adequate substitutional partner for true love’s dance.”

  I grimaced. “Indeed.”

  In my mind’s eye I could picture the perfect man, the one I had been certain I would find tonight. He was tall, possessing a sophisticated air, a keen mind, and the kindest of touches. He would see me from across the room, and it would be love at first sight. Once we were more acquainted, he would make romantic gestures, giving me an initialed handkerchief or sending me on treasure hunts. Our meeting, our courtship, our married life—I could picture it all perfectly.

  Everything, except his face. At times I had tried to study his figure in my mind and make out his features, but the more I studied, the more blurry he became. So I’d soon given up. Still, I was confident in the knowledge that that face would come to life the moment I set eyes on him. Somehow, I would know.